


Shadow Waltz

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abandoned Harry Potter, Blood and Violence, Camping, Consensual Possession, Dark Harry Potter, Dark Magic, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, Horcrux Hunting, Insanity, Lucid dreams, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Non-Canonical Horcrux Theories, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Voldemort, Second War with Voldemort, Sexual Content, Soul Bond, Under the Influence of Horcruxes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-07-29 18:18:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7694566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ron left during the Horcrux hunt, so did Hermione. Abandoned by his friends in the darkest hour, Harry stuggles to find all the horcruxes and defeat the dark on his own. But the longer he spends alone, with only the horcrux as company, the more he starts to question whether everything is as it appears, and the more he starts to question why he has to be the one to do this impossible task. Will Harry stay true to the light, or will the darkness seduce him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dead In The Dark

** **

**Shadow Waltz**

**Spider Cider | Elijah J. Sage**

**Chapter One - Dead In The Dark**

* * *

Sometimes, when the loneliness seeps into his bones like ice, and the silence settles down over him like a suffocating blanket, Harry wonders why he is even bothering with this insane quest Dumbledore thrust upon him.

In these moments, these cold wasted moments, Harry thinks about the people he is supposed to save.

There are thousands, if not billions, of strangers who are counting on him to do the impossible. Trusting him to be their savior, to be the hero of the bedtime fairytale they will later speak to children, years from now, when the evil that is Voldemort is long dead and gone for good. He sometimes feels as if they have pushed him up to the top of a perfect golden pedestal, but it is too high, and he can never get down. He has no choice but to be what they want him to be. These are the faceless masses he fights for, the very people who have stung him up like a prized marionette doll, dragged him into their war by the noose and, with no thought or question of his willingness to fight thier battles and give up the childhood he deserved to have, demanded he be their champion without asking or giving him a choice. Harry fights for these fickle people, these scared children dressed as wise old men and young damsels. He fights for the fearless warriors too, those dressed as children who stand strong at the heart of the fight.

Why should he care about these suffering masses, when don't even care about him?

His fears and doubts are a sickening mantra in his fevered mind. The Boy-Who-Lived is who they care about. Their Chosen One, their Savior, their precious fairy tale martyr. A little orphaned boy named Harry Potter? He is of no concern. Just Harry does not matter to these people. No one wants to think about the child behind the lofty titles and responsibilities. They prefer to remain ignorant and blissful in their percieved knowledge of their scion's strengths, and to belive in their champion, and the power he surely must possess.

He is a victim of expectations, suffocating under the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Tom Ridddle is a victim too. Not of expectations, but of experience.

Another orphan, a halfblood like himself. Dumbledore gave Tom Riddle no second chances. He used his first impression to lead him, and never let Tom Riddle be anything but the bad guy. Maybe he was right. Maybe he was wrong. Harry sometimes imagines the fear filled life the young and innocent child must have led, a freak to his peers, scared and alone, trapped between two worlds at war. No friends or allies to turn to. Fear drove Tom Riddle to darkness and power, and it did its best to corrupt, to eat away at the vulnerable mind of a child, until all that was left was the darkness, and the cold, and the magic, and the fear of death. The scared and lonely orphan named Tom never stood a chance.

The world made Voldemort. Harry is to pay for their mistakes.

He once had friends he could count on to always have his back, unlike Tom Riddle, but they are long gone now.

They left.

Ron ran like a gutless coward, tired of the hardships of their quest. Hermione followed after him with screams to come back, but neither came back in the end. He doesn't know where they are, or what they are doing. All Harry knows is that they abandoned him. He hopes they are safe, and full, and warm, in all the ways he isn't, but he resents them for leaving him alone all the same. He hates them for their betrayal and abandonment.

Harry doesn't have friends anymore.

Now, he has the ice, and the snow, and the bitter bite of the wind.

He has the silence, the cold, and the aches in his bones.

He has the betrayal of friends, the abandonment of family, and the riddles and quest of an old dead man.

Harry has little to nothing more than a horcrux and his loneliness.

A single success with no happiness or meaning. Can finding one horcrux be considered a success if they, he, has no way to destroy it? If he is no closer to defeating the evil of the world, can he really be considered successful?

The locket horcrux hangs heavy and cold on his neck, leaking darkness into Harry's soul like stitches at the seams of his very being, a calm and friendly presence as treacherously deceptive as the placid surface of an ocean before a devastating storm. It caresses his very being, his soul, this shattered bit of evil trapped in a meaningless trinket, like a lover with poisoned lips. It whispers to him these days, a constant dark companion murmuring hissed words in Harry's dreams, like a siren leading him to his demise. Every negitive thought, every ounce of insecurity, every single second of hate he feels, Harry knows the locket plays a hand in, stroking the flames of his darker and less cordial thoughts, coaxing them to a raging bonfire in the numb pitted lump where his heart should be, where his heart used to be.

Harry can't bring himself to take it off.

He doesn't have it in himself to set aside the unfortunately sentient bit of gaudy jewelery, because he doesn't want to face the loneliness. He craves the whispers of his dark companion. Harry does not want to think of how his friends left him to fend for himself in the middle of the woods, with nothing but a tent, a jeweled bag, and a quest only a foolish man would continue.

Harry is a foolish man, but not for this reason. Harry is foolish, because he feels like giving up, knowing that he is the only one who can do this. Knowing Voldemort will never give up because of the Prophecy. Knowing that so many people are relying on him. Knowing he will never find forgiveness if he does. He knows, deep down, in the part of him that still cares, that he has it in himself to find all of the horcruxes on his own, destroy them, and eventually defeat Voldemort once and for all, but he doesn't even wish to do so anymore. He wants the war to end without him having to sacrifice everything.

Before Ron and Hermione left, and before he broke his wand in Godric's Hollow getting away from Voldemort's snake, he was willing to try. He was willing to push through the betrayal and abandonment, ready to fight for his life, and able to block out the disturbing hissed whispers of the locket. Harry would have been able to push through every barrier and obstacle with his friends by his side. Harry could have defeated Voldemort with Ron and Hermione at his back.

He is listless and empty now, without their silent support. The harsh words and accusations still ring in his ears, a constant symphony of regret. He really is inadequate. He really doesn't know anything. Dumbledore's wisdom and knowledge died with him, as did his plans. Harry is a puppet with broken strings, lost without another to guide his way.

**~~**

" _Harry!_ " The locket whispers, the sound echoing in the corners of his mind.

The sound is alluring and wonderful in ways it has never sounded before, and yet this is no different from any other time it has whispered to him. Harry steadfastly ignores the horcrux as the day passes, as he moves through the day with purpose.

Harry shakes his head to clear his thoughts.

It is actually quite beautiful today, mockingly so. The sun shines down from a clear cloudless cerulean sky, cheerful and warm, golden light shining off the snow and ice, as though the world is covered in tiny white stars. Pretty, sweet, cheerful, and completely paradoxical to his morose mood. It is still cold, a familiarity in the rare bit of good weather.

Harry is startled by the sound of children laughing, and he blinks rapidly and stops walking abruptly, rolling on his heels, completely at the ready, prepared for a fight if he has to, hand reaching for the wand that isn't there. Laughter could mean anything from an elaborate death eater trap, to an innocent scene. He hadn't realized he had been walking to begin with, but his aimless walking and thinking has apparently led him to a town on the forest's edge, and Harry is low on supplies and food.

" _It could still be a trap_." Is the locket's helpful input, the words echoing his own paranoid thoughts.

It's a pretty place, muggle but not overly so. It seems to be very small, mostly log cabins and trees, but there is a single store. He treads carefully in case it is a trap. He cautiously tiptoes into the town, invisible to all. Who knows if death eaters lurk in the shadows, waiting for him to slip up, waiting to snatch him up and leave him at the Dark Lord's feet. Harry pulls the invisibility cloak tighter around himself, and he weaves through the crowded streets, ducking into a store as another man opens the door for his wife. Food and supplies disappear briskly under his cloak, and Harry leaves no money behind, not as guilty about theft for survival as Hermione had been. He leaves quickly and quietly, dashing away from the village as swiftly as he is able.

He doesn't need to have his wand to locate his current camp, despite his wandering without thought, because even though he was trapped in a listless, semi-unconscious, fuge like state of thinking, the locket knows the way back. Harry purposely goes the opposite directions, until he is hopelessly lost and too stuborn to admit that he can't find his way back, and the locket catches on to his game and tells him the opposite ways he needs to be going, knowing Harry will do as he needs to and not thank the horcrux or acknowledge it in any way. Harry, for his part, pretends not to notice when the directions suddenly switch.

When he gets back, Harry spends a good few minutes searching the camp for any intruders, before deciding he is satisfied, and setting everything up to cook. Harry used to cook for the Dursleys all the time, he is more than capable of cooking, despite what Hermione assumed, but that doesn't mean it is an easy task without his wand.

Nothing really is.

He can't set up wards to hide his camp. He can't start a fire on wet branches and contain the smoke so it doesn't give away his position. Eventually, Harry just gives up, and he uses his knife to open a can of pears, which he eats, cold from the can, as he reflects on life.

" _You should learn wandless magic._ " The horcrux suggests. " _Surely the mudblood packed at least one book on such obscure magic. She has books on everything else in there._ "

It's a good idea, a wonderful helpful idea, and Harry still ignores him.

The locket huffs in his head. " _You can't ignore me forever._ "

"I can." Harry says in a determined voice.

It is not loud, but it echoes off the branches. Harry pales as he realizes that he spoke to it, out loud. Harry acknowledged the horcrux completely.

Tom Riddle chuckles triumphantly in his mind. " _Can you, sweet child? Do you even want to anymore._ "

"No." Harry whispers.

No one ever told him that defeat feels so much like freedom.


	2. Author Note

**_Author Note_ **

* * *

* * *

* * *

Hello! I am so sorry for the wait! Everything just sort of went tits up for a bit there. I lost my job, and then I couldn't pay for internet or my phone, so I had no ability to write. I am working on updates for everything right now. Sorry for the long wait.

~ Elijah. 


End file.
